Winning is everything, isn't it?
by Archaeologist
Summary: ObiWan Kenobi is the Sith Master of the Galaxy and he's having a bit of a problem with a Dug. KenobiSkywalkerSebulba very, very AU


**Winning is Everything, isn't it?  
****Characters:** Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Sebulba  
**Genre:** Almost horror, drama  
**Rating:** PG-13 for pretty gross  
**Summary:** Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Sith Master of the Galaxy and he's having a bit of a problem with a Dug. Very, very AU.

* * *

"You won again." The calm, deadly voice was perfectly flat.

The center of attention began to shake. Sebulba bowed low, his jowly tentacles brushing the slick obsidian floor and leaving sweaty trails of terror-driven slime in the black polish of the Sith Lord's throne room. He did not know why he was here but he knew that vomiting in panic onto the perfection of the mirrored stone would not be good. Swallowing the bile before it was his undoing, he quavered, " I... yes, my Lord."

Lord Kenobi, Master of all the worlds in the vast Galactic Empire, chuckled at that. Watching the lowly Dug cringing before him, he could almost taste the creature's terror, the roiling confusion, and, beneath it all, in the worm's gory mind, the gargantuan pride of his insignificant accomplishments.

"Do you always win?"

Amusement in the Core Worlds accent drove Sebulba to raise his eyes to meet those of the most terrible Lord in the Galaxy. What he saw there were the gruesome orbs of a living corpse. Once thought to be beautiful, the vibrant color of calm seas, now they were muck-slicked, ooze-green, the decaying windows of evil incarnate.

Yet the Dug could not look away. He could not see the twisted decaying mouth, the half-molted beard, the space-dark robes that sucked in all light, all heat. He stared at the one man in all the Universe who could do anything to anyone at any time. And Sebulba knew he was trapped under the compelling gaze of Death.

"Yes... my Lord."

That response brought a caustic laugh from the Sith Master's mouth, startling the terrified Dug. The pestilent sound echoed loudly in the cavernous space, crashing like the cries of dying millions over him and flowing past as if trying to escape its fate.

As the noise faded into the night, a shivered moaning followed in its wake. Sebulba was suddenly aware that a large mound of crumpled cloth lay undulating at the dread Lord's feet.

The Sith looked down, frowning slightly for a moment, clearly annoyed to be interrupted. Then an obscene deaths-head smile pulled on Kenobi's decaying flesh; something almost gleeful surged in his fetid eyes. Deliberately, he snaked his boot into the billowing fabric and stamped down with all of the dark Force at his command. A loud snap could be heard followed by an agonized groan.

One oily snicker and then Lord Kenobi spat out, "Shut up, you little fool, before I do more than punish you for your failure."

Terrified, the Dug tried to back up, looking around him for any way to escape but the exit was blocked. And, besides, the Sith would find him. Better to brazen it out and hope for the best.

"Where do you think you are going, my fine friend? You've won. Against a Sith apprentice I might add." The Master's gnarled mouth grimaced, a contaminated smile that did not reach his eyes.

Sebulba couldn't breathe. Against a Sith - oh seven hells of Ryloth, it couldn't be. He never raced against a Sith. Only some lowly slave from Tatooine. The kid had beaten him once long ago and he had had the chance to win the race over that poodoo once again. So he had taken it, cheating as usual, ripping out some essential wiring before the race. The idiot slave hadn't noticed until it was too late and Sebulba had won. As he always did. Surely, it couldn't be...

He began to stammer some excuse but the Lord waved his objections away. "You did me a favor, my friend. The boy was getting too arrogant. He is nothing and you've proved it."

Kenobi chuckled. "I dared him to race without using the Force and the little cretin took it. Fool that he is. He has since learned that you should never let go of Power. The Darkside will win every time and he has come to accept this."

"Haven't you?" The Lord, grinning madly, kicked the moaning bundle, one swift intense kick. The wet meaty thud of it stirred Sebulba's stomach. Oh, the bile was rising again. And the terror.

Kenobi grated out, impatience beginning to stir in the putrid depths of those swampy eyes. "Oh, Skywalker, get up. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. Now get up and face the one who has beaten you."

As the bundle began to rise, the dark Lord waved one careless hand and the black, blood-soaked cloak slipped off. The apprentice was covered in dark strings of gore, one hand held against his chest, the other hanging loose and obviously broken. But it was the face that stunned Sebulba.

The sheer brutality of it was indefinable. The young one's face was a mass of glistening meat and black bruises. The left side of his face was opened, the flayed skin revealing muscle and bone even as it swayed with the movement of the teenager. The eye there was shut and swollen and the right was reddened with broken veins. A single bloody tear drooled down his cheek and hung near the ear, like a ruby earring.

Kenobi watched with satisfaction as the Dug swallowed his rising bile in horror. "You see how you have helped me, my fine friend. And you shall be rewarded."

With one subtle gesture, the Sith called over a slave and began to poke at the delicacies on the tray. Pickled eyeballs, fingers and tentacles and other unidentifiable treats were there for the taking. Kenobi picked up one glistening orb and, turning it about, smiled with gruesome satisfaction. "This one has Qui-Gon's color." With that, he popped it into his mouth and chewed for a moment. "Delicious."

A few heartbeats later, after the moist smacking of hungry lips was over, Kenobi nodded. "And now for your reward. Just remember, Sebulba, my friend. Winning may be everything but you never best a Sith. Ever. It's bad for business."

With one chuckle of vast amusement, the demon Kenobi smiled. Languidly, seemingly without effort, he pointed towards the cowering Dug. And, in an instant, the color of corrupted energy lit the room. Bolts of blue lightning danced across Sebulba's skin, surrounding him in a net of obscene light and crackling sound. His agonizing screams soon overpowered the mix of profane laughter and polluted joy radiating from the Dark Lord.

But the Absolute Power that only a Dark Lord of the Sith could wield would endure. The screams turned into whimpers and then into silence. The career of Sebulba, racer extraordinaire, was over.

The Dark Lord's smile was filled with foul satisfaction. "I hope you learned your lesson, Skywalker. Never let go of Power, even if it seems that all the stakes are in your favor. If you gamble, you will lose, one way or another."

Kenobi rose from his black throne, past his swaying apprentice and bent down over the body of the pathetic creature. "Looks like we'll be having Dug stew for dinner." One last chuckle. "Well, my friend. It seems that winning isn't everything, after all."

The end.


End file.
